Sleepless nights

- Good morning, babe. Did you sleep well? –he asked me at 8AM. Late for him, early for me-

No. I couldn’t get any sleep at all that night. I was already becoming a regular in his bed –and that was nice indeed- but it was hard to get used to sleep with someone else.

I mean… it’s sweet to be held and stroked at night and all, but… have you ever slept with someone who holds you in his sleep like he’s gonna choke you in a deathlike grip? Well. I have.

At 2:15AM Bob put his arms around my neck. That big bear hug was very lovely but he was squeezing me like toothpaste. I anxiously tossed and turned until he released his hug. Then I closed my eyes and started counting sheep.

I was already envisioning an endless series of identical white lambs jumping over a fence in the Burdish countryside, going deep into dreamlike fantasies and about to reach REM phase –that must have been around 3:00AM-, when I felt his breathing on the back of my neck. I have unbearably ticklish neck and I’m fine with that. But not when I’m trying to sleep at 3:00AM.

I pushed him softly. He rolled onto his back and continued to sleep. BUT. Some minutes later he turned back and grabbed my hips. Then he spooned up against my back so I couldn’t move. I usually don’t move a lot when I’m trying to get some sleep. But just knowing I couldn’t do that, made me feel like moving even more. At first it was just that annoying thought rolling around inside my head. Some time later, my mind was out of control and I was shaking my arms and legs in frantic motion until he finally set me free.

He had slept like a baby that night. But I couldn’t sleep a wink. His oneiric spontaneous tokens of love and affection left me no choice: I lied to him. Yes, I bloody lied for the sake of our recently started relationship.

- Oh, yes. I slept like a rock! –I said enthusiastically-.
- Cool. Wanna have a power breakfast, Len? Don’t move and you’ll be served in bed.

He rushed to the kitchen. In the meantime, I indulged myself leaning backwards on the pillows. I fell asleep on the spot. I needed to sort it out urgently: I loved to sleep with him, but it would do me no good if I was going to be sleepless every night.

Some time later –it seemed to me that it passed in the blink of an eye-, he was back. He woke me up with a soft kiss. I could hardly open my eyes.

- Wake up, sleepyhead. I have plans for us today. –he said-

Breakfast was on a tray overloaded with hot coffee, milk, orange juice, toasts, butter, marmalade, cheese and ham. I usually had just an apple and a glass of milk, but that looked real good and I stuffed myself. He was happy as a clam.

He poured me a strong coffee. I woke up suddenly when I heard what his plans were:

- There’s a desert beach near Sand Bay where I usually go to test my smoke grenades. Would you like to join me there?
- You do smoke grenades? –I asked, a little bit shocked-
- Oh yes, since I was a kid. It’s easy and funny. You just need a good smoke mixture, basically potassium chlorate, lactose and a dye. Then you have to heat it slowly until it gets brown like peanut butter and…
- And you blow yourself up. I wouldn’t be surprised if I had to gather your arms and glue them to your body one fine day.
- Nah! They’re only smoke nades. They don’t blow up. They’re safe. But thanks. I'll bear it in mind.
- Safe, huh? –I asked-
- Absolutely.

I had serious doubts about the safety of his homemade smoke grenades. Bob was always a surprise package. His pyromaniac kid’s dreams survived through the years and he was still playing the nutty professor.

- They’re safe, Len. You’ll love them. I do them in all colours.
- Where do you make them?
- In the kitchen, of course.

Jeez and he had made our breakfast there. I was feeling a bit apprehensive. Inexistent powder dust and other imaginary chemicals were already getting inside my lungs; tingling in my throat; making me cough. But apparently, I had no trouble breathing.

- So… why don’t we spend the day there? Let’s take our bath suits, some sandwiches and the nades. Say yes. Please.

I finally agreed to join him. He drove north for one hour until we got to Sand Bay and then walked for one more hour. Bob took his binoculars and had a careful look.

- Good. Nobody here.

It was a beautiful beach with soft white sand and warm calm water. It was damned hot. I took my T-shirt off, spread out my towel on the sand and started topless sunbathing. He suddenly went into a panicky mode:

- Hey! Wo wo wot do you think you’re doing, Len? –he babbled-
- What am I doing?
- These lovely teenage boobs are mine and only mine! –he said pointing at my tits-. I’m not gonna share them with the rest of the guys on the beach!
- The beach is deserted, Bob. And you’re being silly.
- What if someone comes and… -he stammered-
- And what? Are you telling me not to topless, huh?
- That's right.
- What a ruddy nerve you have! My boobs are mine! You can touch them, but they’re not yours! I’m not your personal property! –I said, standing up on the sand-

I was really shocked. He always bragged about his broad-mindedness and tried so many ways to show me he was a receptive, tolerant and liberal guy. But, hey, my boobs seemed to be the honourable exception to all that controversial fake progressivism!

I turned back and moved over. I put the T-shirt on again hastily. I was so pissed off.

- Where are you going? –he asked-
- Out for a walk.
- Can I walk with you?
- No you can't!

I walked for almost half an hour on my own until I got over my anger.

- I’m sorry for what I said before. –he apologized when I was back-
- That’s ok.
- It’s your decision. Who am I to tell you what to do.

I accepted his apologies and took my T-shirt off again.

He lit a small fire and carefully heated up one of the nades he carried in his bag. He threw it with all his strength. The nade spew red thick smoke, forming a beautiful unstable cloud that vanished over the sea some seconds later. I clapped my hands.

- Very nice -I said-
- Wanna throw one? –he asked me-
- Nah! With my kind of bad luck, I’d surely blow up my hand.

He threw again on my behalf. The nade produced a hypnotic cloud of blue smoke strangely shaped by the breeze. He really liked these things.

- Hey big. Stop the fireworks for a moment and let’s have a swim. -I said-
- Len. Turn around.

He softly pushed me face down on the sand. Like Quest for fire. Like taking and dominating. He had that primary thing.

Men are visual creatures. He enjoyed the sight of my butt as he thrusted in and out of me between my cheeks, he said. It was raunchy, primitive, raw sex. But it was delightful and exciting. I brought my legs together and squeezed him slowly and gently, thrusting back and forth too as I started feeling a strong supergasm approach from miles away that made me let out a strangled cry. “I’m gonna cum…” he said just a bit later and squashed me on the sand, his arms enfolding me. He groaned loudly and collapsed beside me.

Then, and only then, we had that swim.

We finished our day at his place watching the soccer match, of course. And yes, South Sandwich won again. It was a 1-nil win, but we were champions.

Fireworks, cars blowing their horns and street celebrations could be heard in the distance; for one night, everybody was happy.

- This is for you. Congrats my lil' Sandwichian. I know you don't care a lot about the footy, but just the same.

He put eight nades alongside each other on the backyard. Eight smoke jets sprang up from them: yellow, blue, orange and green. I held him, strongly overwhelmed by that nice touch. It moved me to tears. I'm too mushy for my own good sometimes.

- Hey baby, don't cry.
- Nah. As the song goes... it's just that smoke got in my eyes -I said, smiling-.

"I'm your man" (Leonard Cohen)

A hundred percent mine

I knew the supernaturals were doing their thing. And they were doing real fine. Hellgirl was keeping me abreast of events every day and also reminding me that we still had some pending stuff, me and her.

- Percy was very successful with the job I gave him and he will recover his former appearance very soon. Maxi found his better half; that Orsinian bitch won’t bother you again. I burnt the hexed boxers myself in Hell’s fire. You have now unrestricted liberty of action and decision to make sure Bob is a hundred percent yours. Then… you must pay me your debt. The novel, remember? –she said-

Wow! That was quality and efficient service! Bob a hundred percent mine. I nodded and sighed. She noticed my worries.

- Listen, Leni; here’s my advice and I won’t charge you for this: Your smile makes you pretty; your body makes you sexy; but only your mind makes you beautiful. Remember that. You’ve got a lot going for you, so stop being silly and make sure Bob is all yours. And start writing that novel. Now.

What a self-assertive female demon. She was in a hurry and vanished in the hot breeze leaving a redish trace of smoke behind her. That night Bob phoned me. We hadn’t met for a while and I was dying to see him.

- Hey shorty. –he said-
- Hey big.
- Wanna come to my place to bust a grub? Say… 7 PM?
- What will the menu be?
- I’ll make some mystery meat, slimmy lil’ escargots drenched in butter and an exotic soup that would be really delicious if it didn't have tripe in it.
- What a nice sample of your finest cuisine! So icky and gross! There are simpler ways to kill me, Bob. I’m about to blow chunks on my shoes! Anyways. –I sighed- I get the message: I’ll be there at 7 with a bottle of red wine, roast chicken and bag of chips.
- Yay! You read my mind!

- You’ve got a nerve!
- The ice-cream will be on the house, baby.
- Jalapeno and garlic, I guess.
- Naah, dark chocolate. We’ll puff a nice blunt after dinner. And then I’ll kiss your ouchie to make you feel better, ok?

Excellent. He already sounded 70% mine.

It was a warm and beautiful South Sandwichian night. We gobbled up the food and after dinner, we laid cuddling on the grass, in his backyard; we watched the sky, splashed with more stars than I’ve ever seen. I was lost in my thoughts when Bob came up with one of his most brilliant proposals ever:

- Let’s play a funny game, Len.
- What game?
- Not THAT game you’re thinking of, but this other one: Embarrassing questions and embarrassing answers. –he said, passing me a blunt like a tree trunk-.

He laughed, staring at me with a disquieting look. I took a giant drag on the blunt and expelled the smoke slowly.

- Ok, but silly party game questions like “If I was a banana, how would you eat me?”, “Do you ever pee in the shower?” or “Do you pick your nose in your car?” won’t count, ok? –I said-
- Hahaha, ok. I have a better one. A real good one.
- Oh my god. Shoot.
- Have you ever stolen something? –he asked, very solemnly-
- Wow Bob, that’s daring!
- Hehehehe.
- Have I ever stolen something… I do it all the time!
- You steal paperclips and pencils at work, baby? –he asked, laughing-
- I’m greedier than that. –I answered-
- What’s the most valuable thing you have ever stolen? –he asked, curiously-
- It’s a thrilling story. You may want to hear it.
- I’d love to. Go on, please.

I leaned forward to lie on top of him and started telling the story:

- One day I was at the office, really tired and pissed off. I had been working long hours and thought I deserved a compensation for the overtime the company wouldn’t pay me. So I tiptoed into Big Cheese’s office.
- Jeez… I can see where this is going. –he said, grinning at me-
- I got a bit paranoid thinking there could be cameras inside the smoke alarms, but I decided to risk my neck. I took special care not to be seen or heard by anyone; then, opened the upper drawer to his desk, and… took Big Cheese's most expensive belonging there: a gold pen the chairman gave him some years ago. He used to sign all the important documents with that pen.
- Oh my god. That’s balls.
- Some days later, he found out that the pen was not where it should be.
- Did he smell a rat?
- No. He just said ‘I think I lost my gold pen’ and asked me if I had seen it. I said ‘No’. He thought he probably lost it last time he used it and asked me to order a new one urgently: exactly the same and on account of the company. The genuine one was inside my bag, hahaha.
- Len, as your boyfriend and your lover, it’s my duty to tell you that it’s very ill-advised to steal stuff from your boss’s desk! You could have lost your job if they had discovered you.

Wow! As my boyfriend and my lover! I started feeling butterflies in my stomach!

- Look who’s talking! It’s no crime to steal from a thief. What about you. Have you ever stolen something? –I asked him-
- Multiple things I guess. Two bikes in Zeewland were the biggest.
- Come on. I thought nobody stole bicycles in Zeewland! Isn’t it a sin, like stealing horses in the Far West?
- Everyone does, baby. We were the three of us. It was night, we looked for bikes at a bus stop; each one took a bike, and we walked back home. We opened the locks inside a friend’s house at 1AM with a saw machine that made a lot of noise. And it was smelly too.
- Did anyone hear you?
- Everyone heard us! But nobody gave a shit. It’s so easy to steal a bike! But the one I stole died six months later.

- Don't look a gift horse in the mouth!

I stared at him; that made him feel a bit uncomfortable.

- Hey! Don’t look at me like that. I’m not a criminal.
- I never said that.

I kept staring.

- Tell me what’s disturbing you, Len. I can feel there's something.
- What did your ex wanted the other day?
- You mean when she IMed me on msn?
- Yep.
- I don’t know. She didn’t say anything else and I didn’t say anything else either. So that’s settled. Or not?
- You tell me.
- That’s over. I told you.
- Love me the way you loved her in the beginning. Foolishly. Childishly. Passionately. Without conditions.
- Come here, Len.

I got closer to him. He held me tight and said:

- Listen to me, silly: I love you, ok? You’re all I want.

That sounded acceptably good.

- And button up your shirt or I’ll be doing you in no time at all, pretty skynny. –he said-
- What if I don’t?
- Try me. But I won’t be held responsible for my actions.

I was on the verge of trying him when my cell phone went. He took it.

- As I often say: there’s always some idiot who spoils the best moments of my life. –he said, having a look at the display screen- Uh oh! MANAGEMENT calling: SMS from Big Cheese. He prolly knows you stole his gold pen, Len! Oh my goodness me, you’ll pump up for the pokey! –he said, overdoing his gestures-

I went real paranoid and got the shivers just thinking about that. I threw away my phone in a panicky mode.

- Heeey why have you done that? I was just kidding! There is no way that he could have possibly heard you! Read the message before you start freaking out, Len!

He handed me the cellphone and I opened the inbox: “WE WON”, said Big Cheese

- We won??? We won, Bob!!! –I shouted-

The TV had been on all night long, but we weren’t really watching it.

Soccer chants were making a non-stop background noise. Downtown, the most impatient supporters were lighting fireworks that sparkled like diamonds in the sky; like coloured palm trees exploding in the air; like cosmic stardust rain.

We could hear far away the roaring echo of happy crowds coming from the city, celebrating: People were kissing, drinking and dancing in the streets, because Sandwich had qualified for the final round. We won and it was like a dream.

Bob kissed my lips and whispered:

- Congrats, baby.
- Thanks.
- Hey.
- Yes.
- I love you, Len. With all my heart and soul. Don't ever doubt my love for you again.

Yes, he was 100% mine. Definitely.

"Your loving arms" (Karen Overton). What a supersexy trance song.

Somewhere in New Calexico

The day after, Max woke up with a splitting headache. He could hardly open his eyes. Percy was sitting right in front of him; holding a glass and shaking its contents, patiently waiting for him to wake up.

- How do you feel, mate? –asked Percy-.
- Oow! Don’t shout! I feel terrible. –answered Max, grabbing his head in pain-.
- I’m not surprised. You drank like a fish yesterday. You’re now under the effects of the usually referred to as ‘a hangover from hell’. But fear not. I’m coming up with a solution that never fails –he said, showing him the glass-. This is a fast and complete cure for your problem, whose ingredients are:

A cup of coffee.
A raw egg.
The nail of a bat.
A hair of a mad dog.
The bone of a snake.
A bit of powder to cheer you up and the regular stuff you use to give a better taste to your dishes: honey, pepper, cinnamon...

- I’ll die on the spot if I drink that –said Max, pointing at the glass, whose contents looked revoltingly yellow-brownish.
- O ye of little faith! You won’t die, my friend. Trust me. Drink it down in one go. We don’t have much time: the lady is waiting.

That seemed to convince Max. He drank the concoction and rushed to the bathroom, where he expunged the contents of his stomach with a dreadful vomicane that could be heard for miles around.

- So burning the candle at both ends, huh? Man, you’re a wreck! You’re not going to seduce her with your bad breaths and disgusting stench! Your feet stink like French cheese! Eeek! And you say my farts smell bad! –said Percy, pinching his nose-

Percy draw a pentagram in the air and a rain of tiny Orsinian flags started falling over Max, changing his appearance into the one of a hot, desirable, eligible bachelor: spic-and-span and perfect looking. He was dolled up and ready to go out.

- Now you look like a real alpha male. Let me show you what the lady looks like, so that you can start lickin’ your lips. And wear this, please. – said giving him the boxers- Don’t get scared if you suddenly lose your Zantlander accent and start talking like an Orsinian; that’s just normal.

Max obeyed blindly and put the boxers on. They fitted him perfectly.

Percy’s second trick was to conjure up a scrapbook of the 1998 Santa Fe Highschool Meeting. The beetch had been crowned Beauty Queen that year. The words ‘Miss Plus 98’ could be read from the white strip on the golden latex bath suit that fitted her body like a perfect skin; the crown on her head haloed in fake diamonds and gold with the dubious taste of kitsch.

- Whohoo!!! She’s real hot!!! –exclaimed Max-
- Man, somebody get a drool bucket! She’s not blind date material, but there’s something you should know about the fabulous blonde: that gal is a real country hick; daft as a brush; pretentious; solipsistic; self-deceited; she lacks perspective and forgets the past easily; so… how do you like her? –asked Percy-
- Oh, she’s perfect! –said Max enthusiastically-
- Yeah… for every rip there’s a patch, I suppose. That’s an unequivocal truth; here, there and everywhere. Let’s go then, mate.
- Where?
- Santa Fe; State of New Calexico; Orsinia. Hold tight!

Percy sat on Max’s left shoulder and pronounced an orbiting spell. They flew across space and time until they spotted the borders of the State of New Calexico drawn as a square portion of the Orsinian map and landed smoothly on the roof of a public library. Percy took his field glasses and scanned the horizon.

- Good. The gal is going to have a milkshake and chat session at that cyber cafe over there –he said, pointing at the cafe in the corner-. You must pour this on her drink and make sure you’re the first one she sees right after. She will fall madly, deeply and hopelessly in love with you. By the way: her name is Tigerlilly, but everybody calls her Lilly. Good luck, man. If you need any help, just give me a shout.

They shook hands. For obvious reasons, Percy became invisible, but audible only to Max. He entered into the cafe and discreetly sat at the counter, where he set up his observation post.

Lilly took one of the laptops; she sipped from her milkshake glass; logged into her messenger account; she smiled, very pleased to see her Zeewlander ex was on. She IMd him:

“Hi there”.

***************************************************************************

That night I logged into msn after a long break, just in case there was someone around. To my surprise, there was a small orange light flashing in my toolbar.

- Len!!!
- Hello stranger –I typed. If he could just see me smile-
- How are you doing, baby?
- I’m just fine, and you?
- Not too bad. Watching some footy. Supporting South Sandwich now that we’ve lost, hahaha. –he suddenly stopped laughing-. Oh my gawd.
- What?
- My ex is IMing me!

I gasped. The bitch struck again. What a mood-killer. It really messed me up.

- She just said ‘Hi there’ and then kept very quiet. -he said-
- Oh. And when did you say you split up with her?
- December last year.
- Are you still friends?
- No, not friends.
- Ah. Ok.

In all honesty, I didn’t know what else to say. She was still the dog in the manger... to my consternation, tribulation and despair. The unexpected interruption really knocked me out.

- Hey, baby, are you there? Did you see the soccer match yesterday?
- Yes, we won. –I said, unemotionally-
- Congrats honey. The Red Fury is so cool.
- It certainly is. Sorry, Bob, I have a phone call. I’ll be right back.

The dictionary described my destructive emotion as the feeling of being threatened by a rival in a romantic relationship. And I so hated that.

I logged off on the spot, without even saying goodbye.

***************************************************************************

Meanwhile, at the Santa Fe cyber cafe, Max decided to try the direct approach.

- Hey sweet princess. –he smiled to her-
- Oh, hire yew, stranger? –she said smiling back, fluttering her eyelashes seductively-.
- My name’s Max and I come from Zantland. I wonder if you could spare me a minute of your precious time.
- Shore.

Max formally offered her a hand-kiss that had a great effect on her. She was overwhelmed by his chivalry.

- As I said before, I’m new here. I’m a bit lost.
- I seen ya, dude. Why didn chu come here and tawk to me before? –she asked him-
- I’m a bit shy. –he said, blushing-
- Aww Zantlandian, eh? Goodness gracious, wur is it? I was fixin to leave. I hain't had sump'n teet since dinner. –she said-
- Ehem... Zantlander. Not Zantlandian. I'd be pleased to treat you for lunch, then.
- Aww! If'n the Lord's willin' an’ the creek don't rise, I shore plan to fix sum nice Bobby-Q fer lunch. You prolly want to join me teet.

He could hardly understand her, yet he was so pleased that he merely nodded. It really didn’t matter to him, as long as they could speak the language of love. “Ain’t she sweet and hot?” –he thought-.

She certainly sounded like the Beverly Hillbillies, but the superposh Zantlander could very well cope with that! He suddenly remembered he still had to pour the magic brew into her milkshake.

- Hey sweety! Look out! Giant spiders falling from the ceiling! –he shouted-

That was brilliant. The trick worked: Lilly looked up with her mouth open in search for the dangerous insects as Max dropped the contents of the test tube directly inside her mouth when she was not looking. The effect was immediate: Lilly’s monitor flashed with laconic greetings from her Zeewland ex, returning her previous message.

“Hi” –answered Bob to her IM, out of conviction, rather politeness-

- Oh dang, not now, piss off! –she said, switching the laptop off and turning to Max-. So tell me Max… would’ya like to play with me? Cuz I have sum nice toys at my place. I have a crown and a throne fer ya and a leash fer me. I shore bet ya’d luv to spank me a lil’, cuz I been a bad bad girl, right? –she giggled, putting her arms around his neck-.

Max didn’t get her, but he kept nodding all the time, mesmerized by her beauty and sweetness. Percy was hiding inside the ceiling lamp, sighing and clapping his hands. He followed them to Lilly’s place and shouted into Max’s ear:

“Well done, mate! Now go ahead and have your fun! Spank her as much as you want, but give me the boxers first. Hellgirl must destroy them”

He didn’t get any reply from Max, who was very busy doing three things at the same time:

1.- Undoing Lilly’s bra with his right hand.
2.- Testing her butt’s firmness with his left hand.
3.- Looking sideways, in search for a good spanking place.

“I’ll do you this favour, mate, but you owe me one!” –he said, taking Max’s boxers off.

As soon as he had them, he orbited back to Hell, to report.




Clowns (Goldfrapp).

This is a beautiful song whose lyrics are incomprehensible to me (they seem to talk about Barbie Dolls, plastic surgery and tits, though). Anyway, the music is awesome. Enjoy!

Soccer, beer and chips

The day after, I went back to my place. I was exhausted from lack of sleep; happy with the situation; but also very frightened by the intensity of my feelings.

Bob asked me to stay another day with him. The offer scared me to death.

What if I started feeling comfortable there?
What if I left my toothbrush in the bathroom and my nightie under his pillow?
What if he felt that I was seriously threatening his freedom?

I politely declined the invitation, just in case any of these possibilities would start materializing. But I hated myself for doing that.

He promised we would meet again very soon and said he would be calling me every day to make sure I was getting better and feeling good. Then, he gave me one of those breathtaking kisses that always made me melt.

I e-mailed my best pages to Ed Davies, the editor; there was a lot at stake and I had to keep my promise to Hellgirl.

Oh, and Maxi called to say hello. He didn’t know yet the trap he had set himself in: he would be hearing from Percival very soon and his fate would be in the hands of hell’s powers.

These were the most remarkable events of a week during which I tried to go back to normal mode.

But surprisingly, during the following days everybody disappeared off the face of the earth. I phoned Bob a hundred times but I could only get his voicemail. Same thing happened with Max. And there was no news from Ed Davies. That was strange. Very strange.

Yesterday night, Hellgirl visited me and unveiled the mystery. As I poured her a cup of red wine, she admitted to being bored stiff since Percival orbited to Zantland to meet Max with the Orsinian boxers. No news from him either!

- What happens to these guys? –I asked- The days have passed and I am beginning to ask myself why they don’t call me back or answer my e-mails. Is there poor coverage or lines engaged? Perhaps they’re indisposed, have a hand paralysis or an accident! Or… is it just that they can’t be bothered about me?
- Leni: Stop being paranoid. It’s a whole lot simpler: they're watching that bloody soccer tournament. All the guys got completely hooked on it. –said Hellgirl-
-Soccer? You mean they don’t answer my phone calls because they’re too busy watching soccer matches? -I asked-
- That’s right. –she said, brushing her hair-. That’s the child inside them, Leni. Men are somehow reluctant to become adults. They still keep their primary instincts, but they don’t hunt, stalk, pounce or kill now. These are lost arts. And therefore, they have to give free rein to their remaining male atavisms in some ways.
- I see. So what they do about it is they play with electric trains; shoot their guns at anything moving; buy expensive cars and bikes; get drunk at night and blow someone out; become virtual headless horsemen and disappear into the dark of heavy roleplay; or support their teams sitting through a soccer matches marathon on the TV... and forget the world.
- More or less. But, hey! Don’t get silly over it. Let them have their fun. Most of them will never grow up. They need that; otherwise they would go mad as hell. Or tommy tank all the time. Or who knows what.

Tommy tank. I had never heard that expression before in my whole life.

- What? -I asked-.
- Buff the banana.
- What?? -I asked again in amazement-
- Hold their sausage hostage.
- Just put it in plain language!!!
- It’s Cockney for WANK! You don't know what that is?
- Of course I know what that is, silly! But I don't speak cockney!

We were dying of laughter.

- You should learn some, dearie… it’s really fun. Silly lovely dudes, eh? If they could just be a little nicer sometimes. –she said, sighing and smiling-
- Aah, yes, they would be perfect! –I smiled back-
- Indeed! So Leni… going back to the soccer thing: Bob supports Zeewland. The Zeewlanders have lost their last match against Commyland and didn't qualify for the semifinal round, so I bet you will be hearing from Bob soon. Max will still be out of reach for a while: Zantland is doing fine and is a serious candidate to become the champion. Ed supported Zeewland as well, because his country –Burdishland- didn’t qualify. So I bet he will get in touch with you soon as well . And my good old Percy supports Zantland. The poor Brotanians don't have a soccer team. They’re only good at marbles.

Hellgirl stared at me and asked:

- Oh, and by the way, the South Sandwich Islands qualified for the semifinal. You know that, right? You won the last match against the Davincians and are playing against Commyland on Thursday.

-Really? Are we? Oooh! That's cool!

- Jeez, Leni, you will never stop amazing me. How come you didn't know that?

Hm. In all honesty, I'm not very much into soccer; but it was nice to know that we were in the semifinals. I suddenly felt like supporting my team! The inner child in me wanted to come out to play!

So that was the reason for the unexpected silence: SOCCER. Hellgirl took her long pipe and lit herself a long blue gold-filter cigarette. She offered me a red one, same size as hers. As I started smoking, I felt spacey and had a fit of the giggles for no particular reason. The smoke coming out of my mouth started making strange hypnotic shapes in strange colours, going from dirty shades of white to the shiniest pink and baby blue. She took a big drag from her cigarette. rolled her eyes and said:

- Mmmm... these blunts always give me the best visions ever. Now, Leni… as you know now, these guys have become brain-dead from massive football overdose. Let’s see what’s going on with Max and Percy. I worry about these two.

Hellgirl dispersed the smoke with a defiant wave of her hand, and the holograms of Max and Percy appeared over the coffee table.

Soccer was Max’s number one passion.

He arrived to his posh flat after a real tiresome workday; he took his jacket and shoes off; threw the tie on the floor and jumped on the couch. Beer. Chips. What a wonderful way to spend the evening: watching the football match. There was nothing more rewarding. Max got goose pimples listening to the national anthem. He was a proud Zantlander and as the players jumped on the soccer pitch, he started singing with his hand on his chest…“Zantland Zantland über alles, über alles in der Welt…”.

All of a sudden, the scene was interrupted by the gust of hot wind that always preceded Percival’s triumphant entries. At first, Max didn’t notice the tiny red man. He was really engrossed in the match.

Percy, hurt in his pride, flew back and stood in front of Max’s face. Max was completely stunned. He stared at Percy, but couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

- Greetings Max!-said Percy-. Everybody knows that a closed mouth catches no flies. Close it or you’ll become the fly catching champion of the world tonight, my friend.

Max closed his mouth on the spot, his eyes like saucers.

- Wot? Wot? Wot the hell are you? –he screamed, pointing at Percy, who sat comfortably beside him on the couch-
- That’s right. Hell. Moi. –he giggled-. Hey. Pass me a Bud, mate! And the chips, please. Tell me… how are the Zantlanders doing? –asked Percy-

Max stared at him, dumbfounded; allowed some seconds to realise what the situation was and said:

- I don’t know who the fuck you are; what the fuck you want; where the fuck you come from and why the fuck you’re in here.
- Let me introduce myself: My name is Percival Von Der Twit-Wingnutty of Twatshire, from the Suckertown County in Brotania. –said Percy, offering him his hand-
- That’s very cool, man; I’m just Maximilian Brantsch, from Munschtadt, in Zantland. –he said, shaking Percy’s tiny hand-
- I know. I am here as a representative of Hell, duly empowered and commanded to bring you these magic boxers, so that you can shag a pretty Scarlet-Johanson-looking Orsinian girl when you wear them. –said Percy, waving the boxers-

Max gasped.

- Get out of here or I’ll call the police, you fucking freak.

Percy laughed his ass off.

- And what will you tell the cops? That you have seen a five-inch red demon sitting beside you while you were watching the soccer match? –he said, handing him the phone-. Go ahead, Max. Call them and I promise to pay you a visit at the madhouse.
- I must be dreaming. –he said, dispirited-
- Nope.
- Or going nuts.
- Wrong answer again. By the way, do you mind if I fart? I had baked beans for lunch and my poor old tummy is bloated.
- Do it if you need to, but open the windows to air the room, please. I don’t want the house to stink like it was sprayed by a skunk.
- Oh I like the smell of my own farts!
- Yeah, I like the smell of my own farts too, but I don’t want the smell of yours in here.
- I can understand that. I wouldn’t like the smell yours either. I have a very sensitive odorifice –he said, pointing at his small nose and farting like a popcorn machine-.
- Good. We agree on that. Have a Bud, man.
- Thanks, mate. Cheers. –said Percy, raising his beer can-.

Zantland won the match and qualified for the semifinals. That night Max and Percy drank up all the Bud in Max’s fridge to celebrate.

- Percival: it was a real pleasure to watch this game with you. You’re a good connoisseur of the soccer game. -said Max-- Thanks, man. Same here. You can call me Percy. I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. –he said, paraphrasing Captain Louis Renault in “Casablanca”-

- Oh, by the way Percy... you said she looks like Scarlet Johanson, didn't you?

Then, they slept it off for twelve hours. And yes, It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.




"I don't wanna grow up" (by the great Tom Waits) from his album "Bone machine" released in 1992 and winner of a Grammy Award for Best Alternative Music Album.

Scarlet Johanson also sings this song in her album "Anywhere I lay my head".

Misplaced redundancies

It was already 4:00 AM, but I was wide awake and very agitated. The lights were off in the studio. I needed to occupy my restless mind as soon as possible; otherwise I would be going around the bend. I sat at Bob’s desk and switched his computer on to check my e-mails. That would keep me busy for a while and help me fill some time until I would be counting sheep.

I bet you have received these funny ‘Buy Viagra’, ‘You won the lottery’ or ‘Penis enlargement’ messages, which –apart from pretending to be the miracle cure to some of the most serious problems of human race- may gather your e-mail address to spam it endlessly; fill your monitor with unwanted banners and home pages, or leave a damaging trace inside your hard drive -in the form of a virus- if you ever fell in the trap of opening them (which I assume you never did, clever people).

Well, I had that same unpleasant feeling when I checked my inbox that night. ‘Shitty spam’ –I thought-. Some mysterious guy called Edward I. Davies, who I didn’t know, was suspiciously offering me the chance of my life: “Become a real writer. Publish your own paperbacks and e-books” said the subject of his messages. I had three e-mails from him. I deleted them unopened.

Something very weird happened then: the three emails re-appeared immediately in the monitor, under the subject: “Open your incoming messages, silly, this is not a virus!”. I moved backwards, very astonished. Again, I deleted them unopened. Right after that, I got three more e-mails whose title read: “I told you to open my e-mails. What are you waiting for?”. I felt I was definitely stoned by the time-delayed effects of Mr. Cohol’s blow.

I switched the computer off, but it would be still on. That was strange indeed; anyway, after my supernatural and alien visits, nothing could surprise me. I uselessly tried again and again to turn the damned thing off, but the monitor would stubbornly project its ghostly light on my face. I decided to unplug the computer.

- Hey, don’t you dare to do that! –said a low voice from the speakers, with a beautiful Burdish accent-.

I was rooted to the spot; I felt like the 2008' version of the blonde little girl in the film ‘Poltergeist’ experiencing unwanted online contacts with the afterlife. And that was way too scary. I desperately wanted to go downstairs, back to Bob’s bed and be into Bob’s arms.

- Stay where you are, child. I won’t bite you. Calm down. –said the voice, reassuringly-
- Who are you and what is it you want? –I asked, in a small whimper-
- A common friend asked me to contact you in order to ascertain whether your writing is publishable or not. You know whom I’m talking about. I’d be happy if you e-mailed me something to read. I need to make sure you don’t write crappy stuff –he giggled -

Me? Crappy stuff, huh? Hellgirl! That was the difficult editor guy she mentioned! Would the horror never cease?

- What have you done to deserve Hell’s punishment, Edward? –I asked, cheekily-

And then, there was silence.

- Sorry? –he asked arrogantly, though he heard me perfectly well-
- Oh, nothing. –I said, realising I had gone a bit too far-
- I don’t mean to be rude, Leni, but I’m afraid that’s none of your business. And by the way, you can call me Ed. –he said coldly-.

How embarrassing. It served me well for being a snoop.

- I’m sorry about that, Ed. So… what is it you want? –I asked-
- E-mail me something of yours. Whatever you consider your best work. I heard you’re not bad. If that’s true, I may call you to meet up at my office. I have your cellphone number.

It looked like my e-mail address and my cellphone number were for public release and available to anyone in Hell. It became pretty clear to me that computer safety and data protection meant nothing there.

- Ed. I’m not at home now. I’ve had a small accident yesterday and I’m staying at a friend’s place. So it may take me a couple of days to email you my stuff –I said-
- Oh, no worries. Hm. I hope it’s not serious. –he said-
- No, I was hit unintentionally yesterday, but it’s getting better.
- You were hit unintentionally? –he asked-
- It’s a long story. I hope not to scare you with my bruised face when we meet.
- Well, I’m sorry to hear that your face is bruised. I really hope you get well soon.
- Thanks.

Then, the monitor shut off and the computer stopped making any noise. I quickly went downstairs; I’d had more than enough of the occult for the day.

Bob was deeply asleep. I looked at him carefully. I wished I could keep the beauty of that moment fresh in my memory: the full moon was spreading its pale light all over the bedroom: on the bed; on his chest; on his arms; on his sweet face.

I took my nightie and string off and got into bed right beside him. I spooned up against his back and reached out to stroke his hair. I pressed up against him. I needed to feel his body; to sniff his softly scented skin.

He turned round in his sleep. I watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest under the sheets. His warm breath tickled my neck softly; calmly; rhythmically. I snuggled into his arms and kissed him. I knew I was going to wake him up, but I just couldn’t help it. I really needed a nice cuddle.

- Hey gypsy. –he whispered, smiling and gave me a tiny Eskimo kiss-.
- Hey hobo. –I said, smiling back-. Sorry for waking you up.
- It’s okay, babe. Who wouldn’t like to be woken up like this? Mmmm… you’re all naked. Aren't you cold?
- Yes I am. A lot.

He pulled me closer to him and held me tight. That unavoidably led us to intense petting: I got on top of him; slowly pressed my body against his and pulled his pants down.

- You’re such a baby slut. –he said, laughing-

He sat up to take his pj off. I smiled back confidently and stradled him, my legs clamped around his waist and my arms holding him as tight as I could. He soon thrusted into me, seized with desire. I felt the overwhelming urge to pull him into me harder and harder, more violently with every thrust. My body was exploding.

- Don’t stop -I said breathlessly-

I moaned with intense pleasure as powerful wavegasms started running through me with violence.

- I love you, babe. –he whispered just a few seconds later, when he felt them too-

Still panting and lost in sensual bliss, we both collapsed on the bed.

I couldn’t help remembering Hellgirl’s words. I had the feeling that she was right: some guys can be as honest as the day is long and still tell you how much they love you only when you’re naked beside them with their paws on your buttocks. Yet you won't hear these words when you need them most. Such is life.

Bob fell asleep almost immediately. The shag was great, like it always was and I was shattered. But I could’t sleep a wink for the rest of the night.

"I fell out of heaven, to be with you in hell ..."

"Lust" (The Raveonettes)

What will you give me?

It was 2:00 AM when Whiteboy left. I hid the boxers into my backpack. I had to get rid of the Orsinian girl at all costs.

I had a wicked plan: my idea was to put Max under their spell. I know what you're thinking: selfish; mean; evil. That's right. But I would be killing two birds with one stone: I needed that bitch out of my way and Max would be very happy with her. She met his requirements perfectly: blonde; heart-stopping curves; fascinating smile.

Only Hellgirl could help me. I had to speak to her again and tell her about my plans. I summoned her by saying “Hey Hellgirl”, as she told me to do when we met. But she wouldn’t appear.

I called her twice, three times. All of a sudden, I felt a soft gust of hot wind on my face and a red light ball flying towards me.

- Greetings, Lady Leni. Hellgirl is now busy attending to affairs of utmost importance relating to the heating system of the so-called Underworld: our thermostat is broken. The temperature is dramatically dropping and one hundred million rebel devils have decided to orbit to the Sahara, which -as you probably know- is the hottest and driest desert in your planet. The rebels have threatened to stay there, living as nomad shepherds instead of doing evil stuff as they should, until the heating issue is solved. Hellgirl will join us as soon as her occupations allow.-said Percival, the tiny demon-.
- Greetings, Percival. I’m sorry about the riot and the temperature issue. I hope Hellgirl can solve that. You sound very formal tonight. –I said-
- I am a Brotanian Archduke. You're supposed to call me “My Lord”, bow before me and all.
- Come off it! I won’t! I already bowed more than I should before my Master when I was a slave in Gor. We’re not medieval roleplaying now.
- Hm. You say that because you’re bigger than me, bully!
- No, Percy. I say that because I think nobody is better than me, and I’m not better than nobody. I promised myself I would neither bow nor kneel down again when I left that world. I have dignity. –I said, very serious-
- Hm… that sounds reasonable. But let's not be that dull. Look at this!

And he made his head spin just like Linda Blair did in "The Exorcist". He even improved the trick by making it spin like a propeller. He gave me the shivers, but it was impressive. I clapped enthusiastically.

- That’s very cool Percy. If you invested your nonsensical thinking time in finding out how to pay your debt to Hellgirl, you would be already doing the garden in your Brotanian summer cottage, instead of being a third-class tiny demon doing cheap tricks like that headspin.

I reckon that was real nasty. I should have never said that. He sent a shot of fire particles to my head at point-blank range that burnt my limp black hair.

- Have a perm, baby! How do you like it? –he chuckled-
- Ooooh give me back my beautiful hair! –I cried, holding my head-

Furious and not yet satisfied with that, he rushed towards me and started jumping on my head. I yelled:

- Hellgirl!!! Help!!!

Hellgirl appeared immediately. She was riding a fire horse, looking glamorously fabulous. Her shiny brown mane reached the middle of her back; kinda Lady Godiva but in a shiny red latex super tight dress, instead of riding naked. She looked stunning. As usual. She was very upset with Percy and me, for interrupting those important matters she was attending to.

- What’s going on here, Percy? Stop jumping on Leni’s head! And Leni, tell me, why is Percy jumping on your head? –she said-

She pointed at him, pronounced some satanic words and froze him into a small ice cube. Then, she threw some magic dust over my head and I recovered my usual hairstyle.

- Percy, promise me you’ll behave or I will put you in Bob’s fridge, with the chicken curry sandwiches and the green apples. –said Hellgirl-

- No way! I'm allergic to apples! -cried Percy-

Percy cried out for help. Hellgirl took the ice cube where he was frozen and made it melt. Poor thing. He was soaked through, shivering with cold.

-I'm sorry, Percy. I didn't mean to be unkind. That headspin was very cool. -I said, holding out my hand-

But he stuck his tongue out at me instead of shaking my hand. He was really pissed off.

- Don't be rude, Percy. You shouldn't turn down a peace offer from a friend. Now sit on the heater. You’ll get warmer. Leni, what is it you want from me now? You already have your man’s heart, right? –she asked-
- I think so.-I answered-
- What do you mean, "I think so"??? –she asked, angrily-.
- I think so, Hellgirl, he still makes me feel insecure!!! I can’t help it! -I babbled-
- Hrm. Is he the kind to tell you how much he loves you only when you’re naked beside him with his paws on your buttocks? I offered my help, but you didn’t accept. I'm sorry to tell you this: you're doomed to be always in fear, Leni. But you asked for it. So there you go, the sooner you accept it, the better for you.
- Hellgirl. Stop. The reason why I have summoned you here tonight is not Bob and me, but these boxers –I said, showing them to her-. They’re hexed. The Orsinian girl has put a spell on them and gave them to Bob. He's been wearing them for months. Any man who does will fall under the spell, which will make him speak with a strong Orsinian accent and fancy Orsinian girls. They must be delivered to Max, in Zantland. He won’t mind putting them on, as long as you give him what he wants: a genuine looking Orsinian girl. And it must be Tigerlilly, Bob's ex. She’s blonde; has big boobs; big butt; and is a real airhead. Maxi is not very demanding. I need your help to make him wear the boxers and draw a plan to seduce her. They must fall in love asap. Once this happens, I would most appreciate your destroying the boxers so that no one wears them again. Least of all Bob.
- You sound a bit desperate, Leni. May I add that your plan is… simply Machiavellian? So you're happy to put aside all your ethical considerations, as long as you keep your ice cold man beside you, right?
- Right. I desperately need to get rid of this thing –I said, showing her the boxers-.
- Leni, to be a friend of the devil’s minions is a privilege reserved exclusively to a selected few, who must carefully observe Hell's rules. And you’re designing a plan for me to direct the destinies of two humble mortals who are... say... disturbing you? It's not nice to have a human playing Supreme Being, Leni. It could break the power balance between those who are UP and the ones who are DOWN –she shook her head in disapproval-.
- I need your help! –I said in despair-
- And I’ll help you, dearie. But what will you give me? -she smirked-.

That was the toughest part. What in the world could I give her?

- What is it you want? My car? My house? These are my most valuable belongings. I'm not a rich girl -I said-

She was dying of laughter.

- Leni, Leni... don't talk to me as if you think I'm dumb. These are not your most valuable belongings. I already have plenty of cars, houses, diamond rings… but you know I’m very short of souls. –she said, smiling a big smile-
- Hellgirl. My soul is not for sale. Ask for anything else. Do you like apple cake? I’ll bake loads of them, just for you. Do you want me to write a novel for you? I will.

Hellgirl cracked up with laughter.

- I’m allergic to apples. But I could be interested in the works of your imagination. What would you say if I asked you to write a novel for me? It should be published under my name, of course.

How strange that everybody would be allergic to apples lately. Almost as strange as having someone so interested in my novels. Percival took a pencil and a notepad, cracked up with laughter and said:

- Bwahahahah! Writing a novel! How funny is this! That’s way too easy! Anyone could do that! Even myself!: -he started writing with lightning speed and reading-

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way- in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.”

- Excellent literary work, Percy; what a shame Charles Dickens already wrote that in 1859 in “Tale of two cities”. I got you, clumsy plagiarist! Don’t mistake me for one of your aristocrat friends. You must excuse him, Leni. He’s got a bad brain day today. Where were we... Oh, yes, you were going to write a novel for me. That’s interesting. Let me tell you that I won't accept a shoddy piece of work, so you must rack your brains to write a best seller. How are you supposed to publish it? –asked Hellgirl-
- Hm. I don't know. I don’t have an editor yet. –I answered-
- You mean I have to take care of that too??? Jeez. You're keeping me too busy.

She was serious, thinking at light speed what to do.

- Listen: I have a cage full of editors at home that I'd love to get rid of. I’m particularly thinking of one of them who is a little bit difficult, but I'm sure you'll manage. So the deal is:

Firstly: I help you get rid of Max, the Orsinian girl and the boxers;
Secondly: You have six months to write a novel for me and help me get rid of that editor. When he publishes your work with my name I get the copyright and the royalties. You won’t be able to claim them. Is that okay with you?
- Yes.
- What a silly girl you are! And all this mess is just for love! I hope your man appreciates what you're doing, because no human male deserves this! Give me the boxers before you change your mind. This is what we’ll do. Percy, listen carefully:

Firstly: you will travel to Zantland to make sure Max puts the boxers on. Do not, under any circumstances, wear them. Understood?
Secondly: Then you will orbit Max to Orsinia, to the girl’s ranch. Make sure they meet. Give her this to drink. –she handed him a small test tube with a glowing green liquid inside-. Max must be the first guy she sees after she drinks this, so don’t get on her way or she will fall in love with you on the spot and that’s not what we want. Then, let nature do the rest and come back to me with the boxers, to report. I’ll think how to destroy them. I’ll be watching you in my crystal ball.

- What will you give me if I do that? -he asked-

These two wouldn’t do anything for free! I already heard that before! Hellgirl scratched her chin, rolled her eyes, started thinking and finally said:

- Percy, if you attempt to accomplish this assignment… I will give you back your fantastic Brotanian Archduke appearance. –she said-
- Aww would you do that for me? -he asked-
- I would do that for you. But not before I check everything ends as expected. So I need your word for that. No messing around, ok? Can I count on you, Percy?
- Yes, Hellgirl. You can count on me. - said Percy-

- Can I count on you, Leni? -asked Hellgirl-

- Yes, Hellgirl. -I answered-

- Ok then. Let's meet up again next Monday with the results of our work.

(To be continued)



"Sympathy for the devil" (The Rolling Stones) .

(I heard some editors imprisoned in Hell love this song).

Whiteboy and the bewitching spell

The noise I heard came clearly from upstairs, where Bob had his study and draw his blueprints. I got up from bed, wrapped him up in the blanket and gathered up my courage to check what was happening there.

That night, and after such a day –big blow, huge meal, scary movie, war game and absof*ck*ing heavenly shag-, I had the feeling I was being watched, so I expected the worse from whatever was happening upstairs.

That thing I heard was raising a terrible hullabaloo. It sounded like an engine coughing and a funny familiar voice swearing in a weird language that I was unable to identify. I was so scared that I decided to take Bob’s rifle with me.

I slowly went up the stairs. The door to Bob’s study was at the end. That voice scared the hell out of me. I pulled hesitatingly the door handle; it was dark inside the room; I opened the door slowly, very slowly; I snuck through the gap and got the shock of my life.

- Aaaaaargh!!! –shouted in fear a white little creature, raising his hands-
- Whiteboy! Long time no see! What are you doing here? –I asked-
- Dammit Leni, put that rifle down!!! I come in peace!!! –he yelled in panic-

I couldn’t believe who was there: my dear old friend from outer space. His spacecraft was floating in the air outside, right in front of the study window. The room was turned upside down.

- I’m very sorry. I didn’t want to frighten you –I said-
- I didn’t want to yell at you, either. It’s been a long time! -said Whiteboy-
- Would you like a kiss, like in the good ol’ times?
- Gimmi. –he chuckled, nodding his head vigorously-

Have you ever kissed an alien guy? At first it gives you the shivers. But I got used to that. I can even say I got to love these kisses to the point that I asked for one every time we met.

Whiteboy was all skin and bone. He had big oval black eyes, white face and no hair. He spoke with a charming lisp and a guttural accent, like Sylvester, the tuxedo cat. He used to go naked until he got arrested for indecency in Uranus and decided to get himself a pair of boxers. I noticed he was wearing the Orsinian type I was so familiar with. Surprisingly, he was also overdoing a strong Orsinian accent.

- You wear boxers with the Orsinian flag now? How come? –I asked-
- Oh, found them in da trashcan. They seem to have a terrific effect on me: hear me talking; I sound like a genuine Orsinian! –he said, all proud-

So Bob had thrown the boxers away! It seemed that those damned boxers would put anyone who wore them under their wicked spell: That was the secret of the Orsinian bitch!

- They’re from my… boyfriend –I said smiling a big smile-
- Yay! So ya finally found yourself a Doodoo! That’s new! Tell me! –he said, eager to know-
- Well, there’s not much to tell. After some ups and downs now it’s official. I think… Is it official? –I asked myself, scratching my chin- Hm… I guess it is…
- Is it official only fer you? How crappy then!

I sighed and sat on a chair, a little bit annoyed to see him cracking up with laughter.

- Ain’t your beancake the tall dude that builds weird stuff and does strange things?
- Heey! Look who’s talking. He’s not that strange when you know him.
- Aww… See that small heart shape materialising on top of yer head! Yer lovesick! –he said laughing-

He suddenly bent over to examine carefully Bob’s mountain bike. It had just come back from the shop, where he took it for a full repair after he started practicing his trial skills.

- My spaceship doesn’t work. I hope yer friend won’t mind me parking in his backyard.
- He’s asleep now. I don’t think he’ll wake up. He’s a heavy sleeper.
- Good. This thingy is exactly what I need to fix the engine –he said pointing at the bike chain-. Do you think he would mind me if I disassemble and borrow it to make the engine work? Wasn’t he a bit of a commie, by the way? He shouldn’t object sharing his things with me, then.

Did I forget to say he’s got one hell of a nerve?

- Hey. He just picked it up yesterday from the repair shop. And you already took the boxers.
- And what does he care? He had thrown them away! -said Whiteboy-
- That is really a lame answer. I’ll tell you what we’ll do: you give me the Orsinian magic boxers and I give you the bike chain. Deal?

He scratched his chin. I needed to get these boxers at any cost. I had already decided their final destination.

- Oki doki. But where do I hide my zeppelin then? -he asked, a bit worried-
- Ooh you have one?
- Wanna see it?
- That would be cool, but better keep it for your Doodoo.
- I need a grub. And a booze too. Moonshine would be fine, thanks.
- We have no moonshine here. We only have curry chicken sandwiches and apples.
- Ok, gimmi da hoagie. I’m allergic to apples. They make me blow chunks!
- Don’t be offended, but you sound like a real Orsinian hick!
- It’s da boxers. Lemme show ya.

I looked to the other side and he removed them.

- I bet I sound a lot more Burdish now. Listen to this: “Would I sail alone till Doomsday longing for death, with death denied me? Above the main mast I saw a white gull circling; its wings were stained with blood. Seven years and seven times seven years I have sailed, my ship without anchor my heart without hope” –he recited, definitely overdoing- Who’s that?
- Give me the boxers on and stop quoting The Flying Zeeewlanderman, please. I got your number.
- Oh yea, Captain of the ghost ship, The Flying Zeewlanderman! Renowned for the uncanny speed of his trips from Zeewland to Java and suspected of being in league with the devil to achieve this speed! Not like your sleepyhead big man. –he grinned, overdoing again-
- Listen, Whity: I need these Orsinian boxers. I have to break the spell they put on the person who wears them. I’ll give you a pair of white ones. Bob must have some in his room. They’ll go very well with the colour of your skin.
- Gimmi da bike chain. Grrrrrr… –he said, folding his arms and turning back-

I could tell from his answer that he had put them on again. I had no choice but to resort to the use of force: I pulled the boxers down, leaving him butt-naked. He yelled; pulled them up; waved his arms about; freaked out.

- Give me the damned boxers! -I shouted-
- Gimmi da bike chain! -he shouted back-
- I can’t do that!
- Then... no tickee no shirtee! One day he will put’em on and that'll be the end! Hm… Leni, I didn’t think you were so fond of this lame fetish stuff! Do ya really think they have a spell?

I gave up.

-Yes –I said sadly-
- So you think if someone puts’em on, they’ll become fucking imperialists, speak with Orsinian language and… what else?
- Fancy Orsinian girls.
- I see what this is all about: your supposed boyfriend was bewitched by his ex when he wore them, right?
- Right. Under my responsibility: take the bike chain and give me the boxers.

As Whiteboy started working, I went downstairs to look for a pair of white boxers in Bob’s room. Whiteboy was in a hurry to fly back to Asimovian hyperspace. You know, the region where you can teleport on a pre-calculated route, ending in normal space.

- Woot! I’m done here. Let’s kiss goodbye.

He was indeed in a hurry. His spacecraft took off and disappeared in the sky.

And there I was, in the middle of the study, grabbing the broken bike with one hand; holding the Orsinian boxers with the other one.

What was I supposed to tell Bob when he would find out? That an alien guy had taken the bike chain to fix his spacecraft?

(To be continued)

"Whiteboy" (James)

Chemistry, fire and ice

Maybe I had been too direct. Bob’s answer to my question was most unconvincing but I thought I shouldn’t insist, so I let it go: I didn’t want to put him between a rock and a hard place.

We went to my flat first to pick up some stuff I needed: my toothbrush, a painkiller, some sexy undies and a nightie –though I was not at all in shape to do the hula for the moment-, and a beauty case that would not help me hide the bruises.

Bob was an extremely gracious host: he lived only for me.

Was I comfortable? “Sit on the couch, Len. You’ll be fine there”
Did I feel alright? “Does it hurt, Len? I’ll bring you your painkiller”
Would I like to eat something? “Lick the plate clean, Len. You’re skinny”
Was I bored? “Let’s play a bit of Enemy Territory with my fighting buddies”
Did I like the music? “I’ll put some Ramstein on while I work on a blueprint. I bet you’ll like them”
Would I like to watch a film? “What do you prefer, Len? Eraserhead? Zombies flesh eaters? Sin City?”

We watched Zombies flesh eaters. I must say it was hard, right after Spaghetti Bolognese, Pork Tetrazzini and apple cake extra portion with vanilla ice cream topped with sauce of syrup.

But that was life! Laying on the couch and being so well looked after; spending quality time with Bob the Great; being fattened up; watching disgusting scary movies; listening to the hardest rocking hard rock music; playing war games with Mr. World-Beater and friends; chit-chatting with my favorite man and basically bumming around all day without having to work!

While we were watching the zombies, I had to close my eyes to skip the famous eyeball scene, probably the most disgusting one in movie history. I snuggled up to him. He rubbed my back with light circles and pulled me closer.

- Are you scared, baby? –he asked, pulling my shirt up a little bit, lightly grazing my skin with his fingers-

I nodded, covering my eyes. His cell phone rang.

- HELLO. WHO IS IT? –he answered angrily-. Len. It’s for you. Mr. Al Cohol. There will always be an idiot who will interrupt the most beautiful moments –he said, handing me the cell phone-.

Mr. Cohol just wanted to make sure I survived to his blow. I told him I did; I asked him not block the cycle path anymore, and particularly not to beat anyone up again, more specifically Bob. The guy almost cried, probably drunk as a lord. I felt so overwhelmed that I also cried with him. Bob snatched the phone from my hand and said:

- Hey, enough tear-jerking, man. She needs some rest, ok? –he said to Mr. Cohol, and finished the conversation-. What a jerk! –said Bob-.

He dried my tears and asked:

- Aww… do you feel a little bit mushy today, honey? Let’s have a big squishy cuddle and then a nice kiss.

That was exactly what I needed. The zombies were still eating flesh on the TV after our lovely kiss, but they were not the centre of our attention anymore.

- Len. I had the coolest dream some days ago. And it was a lucid one.
- Oh, did you? Tell me, please. I’m very curious. –I said-

- I was in Orsinia, sleeping in my hotel room. You arrived suddenly and whispered into my ear the sweetest words I ever heard. –he said smiling a big smile-
- Like what. –I said, smiling back confidently-
- Like you loved me. –he whispered-
- Oh. Does it mean something to you? –I said, playing it coy-
- It means everything to me.
- But everything… how?
- Everything… everything, nosy little person. Isn’t it pretty obvious that I like you? –he said-
- It is, but you also like trees and dogs.
- You know I like you much more than trees and dogs, baby.
- And what does it mean? That we’re friends with benefits? That I am your fucking buddy? How come you dangerously sound and act like a boyfriend and yet you declare you don’t want to have a relationship?

He held me and said:

- Maybe because since I wake up in the mornings you stay for hours in my brain.
- …
- Maybe because I listen to your phone messages over and over, just to hear your voice.
- …
- Or perhaps because I have accustomed myself to be with you and I miss you badly when you’re not around.

He left me speechless, stunned, my poor mind working at the speed of light, wondering about transcendental questions, such as:

Firstly:

a) Was love that burning ice? That frozen fire? That serious wound that didn't hurt me but exposed my vulnerable beating heart?

b) Or was it just an addiction to him, caused by a dangerous drug called infatuation that made me enter a state of altered consciousness, affecting my brain to the point that it made me blind to his flaws and annoying little habits?

Secondly:

a) Was passion the irresistible urge I felt for him, strong like a dragon, intense like a shooting star, that was driving me into insanity?

b) Or was it just a brief emotion caused by the activity of endorphins related to my brain areas associated with emotions, that wouldn’t last too long?

And last, but not least:

a) Was sex the corporal expression of love and care exchanged with him in the form of extreme pleasure, in the universal language spoken and unchanged for millennia?

b) Or was it just another mechanical effect of our chemistries? Another usual and expected biological response? Or even another way of creating social relationships?

Wow! What a brain fart! What a shot of cheap crappy psychology! But hell, I had so many questions in my head!

Chemistry, fire and ice, shooting stars, dragons and endorphins all mixed up quickly in my disorganized grey matter as he held my face gently; he slipped his tongue inside my mouth and kissed me with such a passion that it seemed to me he would suck the life out of my body. He made it long-lasting, soft and slow, leaving me completely breathless; craving him; asking for more.

He brushed my cheeks and asked:

- Does it hurt here, baby?
- Mmm.. no –I answered fascinated, mesmerized, gazing into his eyes-
- Is it okay if I go on?
- I’ll kill you if you don’t. –I whispered-

I saw his wicked smile appear as he asked me again:

- Does it hurt here, sweety? –he said as he stroked my neck -
- Mmmm... yes. A lot.

He unbuttoned my shirt and had a close look. Then pulled my arms crossed over my head and spread my legs wide. I closed my eyes and let myself go, as he patiently took his time to nibble, lick and kiss my neck and shoulders.

- Jeez it’s been so long, baby. I’ve been aching for you. You’ve got one gorgeous body. I’ve been wanting to get inside you all day. –he said-

I loved his dirty-talking little game: sex-on-the-brain, the major sexual organ. He knew that just by stimulating my imagination, I would be begging him to have sex with the rest of my body real soon. I hungrily started to rub him through the fabric of his boxers, my fingers seeking to tease him in sweet revenge.

- Not yet, Len. -he said, stepping back-

He thrust two fingers inside me, making me gasp with intense pleasure. I moved closer, to feel it deeper, but he teased me to hell pulling them out when I was most excited. He did that over and over again, building an awesome tension I would not be able to stand for very long. I protested weakly: “Don’t do that, baby. Please, don’t be bad”. But he just ignored me.

“Please stop it. I can’t take anymore. I want you” –I panted-. He pressed my body against his, and started moving slowly, very slowly, excruciatingly slowly, in and out of me.

- I love you, Len. More than words can say –he whispered-

That was enough to make me dream. My whole body convulsed on him as he started giving me incredible wavegasms. I lost control; I lost track of time until I heard him scream in pleasure. That genuine moment of unfinished happiness made me wake up to reality.

I was breathless. We both were. It took us a minute to get our breath back.

- Did I hear you say you love me? –I asked him-
- Right. You did, babe –he said smiling at me-

He suddenly fell asleep with a calm and happy expression on his face. I felt the urge to hold him; it gave me an enormous sense of wellbeing.

I was going to do that, when I heard a strange noise coming from upstairs.

(To be continued)

"#1 Crush" (Garbage)

IMPORTANT NOTE: The song is very cool, but don't play it at work if your boss is around!